


Grounded

by TheSolarSurfer



Series: Tron [3]
Category: Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Uprising
Genre: Basically, Family, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, beck is clumsy, hurt fic, i guess, tough love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:30:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6008062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSolarSurfer/pseuds/TheSolarSurfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beck gets hurt and Tron lectures. Much sarcasm and some Father-Son bonding ensues. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grounded

 

“So explain to me how you almost got derezzed by Tezler.”  
  


Beck sighed, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. Users help him. “I already told you. Tezler came at me with his creepy extend-o-hands, I tried to run away, and he got me by the ankle.”  
  


He gestured to his gimp foot - derezzed at the edges, but so far it remained intact. Beck liked to think it was his own quick-thinking that saved it; with his disc, he isolated the right partitions (with perhaps some not-so-sanctioned coding), and prevent the deresolution from spreading. It certainly didn’t stop it from _hurting_ , though, and it had been quite a trek between Argon city and the snowy regions in the Outlands.  
  


But that was only after he used that same Disc to cut through Tezler’s terrible glowing hands. The whirring blade sliced through the General’s energized wrists like it was nothing, and while Tezler roared in pain and rage, Beck had made his getaway.  


 Now he sat, safe in Tron’s mountainous hideout, far from any Occupation goons. He sat on a bench while Tron alternated between pacing and giving him hard looks - as if he was programmed to do anything else.  
  


Of course, Tron had to overanalyze _everything_. “How did your comm get disconnected?”  


“I fell and cracked the helmet. The only way it could be fixed is if I took it off, and I couldn’t do that because, you know, Tezler was trying to kill me.”  
  


“And you didn’t think trying to contact me some other way?” Tron demanded. “I’d have no way to help you if something else went wrong. I had no idea what was going on, if you even made it out. What would you have done then?”  
  


“Uh,” Beck shrugged helplessly. “Try not to die? What, Tron, what else could I’ve done? I didn’t have time to send you a message while I was running for my life. And stolen Lightcycles don’t exactly come with built-in comm units, either.”  
  


“And what part of ‘don’t be seen’ didn’t you understand?”  
  


Beck just threw out his hands, helplessly frustrated. Why was everything _his_ fault? “I didn’t do it on purpose! That bit-head Pavel was looking for me -- he must’ve known I would show up to the rally.”  
  


Tezler had been trying to garner pro-Occupation feelings from the populace of Argon, because who knew that some Programs didn’t appreciate being annexed into an empire they didn’t sign up for?  
  


Anyways, the main event had been to celebrate the death of Flynn, and it was Beck’s job to promote the opposite: FLYNN LIVES. Giant words, cascaded across the billboards and signs, there for everyone to see and believe.  


“Hm,” Tron frowned, rubbing his chin, stopping in front of Beck. It seemed as though he finally made a point the old warrior understood. “I guess we _are_ getting a little predictable. But did the message go out as planned?”  
  


“Some minor glitches, but yeah,” Beck had no idea if Flynn was really dead or not, just that no one had seen him in over a hundred cycles. Beck certainly wanted to believe that Flynn was still out there, watching over them, guiding Programs so that they may execute their functions to perfection...but it was smarter not to. Beck wasn’t much of a romantic or an idealist, and he wasn’t going to stake his identity in a User that was defeated by his own Program. How powerful of a Creator could he be if he was usurped by his own creations?  
  


But for some reason, Tron still believed. Ages without word or sight of the Creator, Beck figured Tron would’ve given up by now. What was the point, anyways? Even if Flynn was still alive, what could he do against Clu and his vast army and power? Did Tron really think Flynn could destroy Clu and his forces? Could just one User really be so powerful? Beck found it hard to calculate such innumerable odds.  
  


Then again, Beck’s function was different than Tron’s. Sure, he wore the mask, the emblem, but he didn’t live by the creed: Fight for the Users. Tron understood this function better than anyone, knew it in ways that Beck never could. He wasn’t designed to. No, it was something Beck borrowed, already used and a little damaged...but just as strong, and perhaps even more determined to succeed.  
  


“Well, good,” Tron huffed, which was about as close to a compliment Beck was ever going to get. The gesture was, of course, ruined by the next comment: “But you should be more careful next time. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. You could’ve been deleted.”  
  


“Yes, I know,” Beck muttered, for the third time. How many times did Tron have to say that? It wasn’t like he had forgotten in the last five milicycles when he said it before. “I heard you the first time. I get it. I messed up! But no one else got hurt! And I made it here in one piece, didn’t I? I lost all my tails, I destroyed Tezler’s gauntlets, I got to punch Pavel in the face…”  
  


 _That_ had definitely been the highlight of the night. Even though Beck was surely going to pay for it sometime in the future, decking that sniveling sycophant had done wonders to his mood.  
  


Tron just sighed, holding out his hand for Beck’s Disc. Beck handed it over after a second of consideration, still unsure of what Tron was going to do. “What do you need this for? Can’t I just use your rehabilitation tank?”  
  


“It’s recharging,” Tron said, opening up the interface of the Disc. Beck watched in growing apprehension when a holographic image of his face appeared. He didn’t like other people, even Tron, messing with his identity, especially after that whole lost-Disc incident. “You don’t need it anyways. That’s for emergencies only. Your ankle just needs some debugging, that’s all.”  
  


“You can do that?”  


Tron gave him a ghost of a smile. “Flynn taught me a few things back on the Encom server. You’d be surprised how many loopholes he left in his coding.”  
  


As Tron opened up the quarantined partition and started scanning through the incomprehensible matrix of numbers, Beck’s leg began to tingle, and he looked down, startled to see that the pixelization was already fading, smoothing out and returning to its former, healthy state. It still hurt, but at least Beck didn’t have to worry about his foot falling off.  
  


He _did_ , however, have to worry about Tron not dropping the matter. “You understand that you can’t keep making mistakes, right?”  
  


“Oh, please, no more lecture.” Beck groaned, his head falling in his hands.  
  


“You’re smarter than this, Beck.” Tron continued as if he hadn’t heard him. When Beck glanced up, he saw the look Tron gave him, and felt rightly embarrassed. Tron was stern, but there was also disapproval in there, too. “I know you are. I’ve seen it. I just don’t understand why you keep putting yourself in these situations.”  
  


“What? I’m _not!”_ Beck protested, even though he knew Tron was a little right. If Beck hadn’t punched Pavel, and alerted the whole Guard to his presence, he might’ve gotten away scot-free. “I just -- I’m trying my best! What more do you want?”  
  


“I want better. I _know_ you can be better,” Tron said. He sighed and dropped down to one knee, so they were facing eye-to-eye. “When I send you out there, Beck, I know I’m putting your life at risk. It's something I have to live now. But this was the first time I was worried you wouldn’t come back.”  
  


“...Oh,” Beck couldn’t hold Tron’s gaze, and averted his eyes, flushing in shame. He didn’t know that Tron had been worried. He didn’t know Tron could even _get_ worried. The guy always seemed so stoic and calm all the time -- this was the first Beck had ever seen Tron visibly shaken, even if it was just in his eyes. It was still there. “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean --”  
  


But Tron just held up his hand before Beck could spew out any more apologies. “It’s fine. I know what you young Programs are like, thinking Flynn designed you to be invincible. I was like that once, too, and I didn’t always have the luxury of knowing whether or not someone had my back in the end.  


“I just don’t want you to do that again, okay?” Tron asked, returning Beck’s Disc and standing up again, raising one eyebrow at Beck as though he already knew this was going to be a tough promise to keep. “If something goes wrong -- if you even get so much as a bad feeling, I want you to tell me. I don’t want to wait a whole cycle, without being able to contact you and wondering if you were derezzed or not.”  
  


“I, uh,” Beck rubbed the back of his head, playing with his Disc mindlessly before placing it back on its dock. “Sure. I guess.”  
  


He made to get up as well, but as soon as he put weight on his ankle, it collapsed underneath him. Beck yelped, wincing and falling back in his chair. “Agh, it still hurts!”  
  


“Of course it does,” Tron said, not sounding the least bit surprised as he headed over to the large window overlooking the Grid. He pressed his hand to the glass and it lit up, revealing the system hidden within. “Just because it looks healed on the outside means it's healed on the inside. I suggest you wait a while before going home.”  
  


“Great,” Beck muttered, slumping back in his seat. “So I’m grounded, too.”  
  


“Oh, very perceptive,” Tron remarked, with just an edge of sarcasm. He checked a reading on his screen and said, “There’s a storm coming in, so you’d have to wait anyways, even if you wanted to leave. And since you have nothing better to do aside from lazing around and pouting, maybe you can work on the Runner.”  
  


“Do I have to?”  
  


“Well, considering the fact you destroyed three Light Cycles since we first met,” Tron said, as if Beck had lost count. “And that doesn’t seem to be a trend that’s going to die anytime soon, maybe you should try to make up for it,”  
  


Beck sighed, and was about to get up and perhaps limp his way to the garage, but then Tron said something else that surprised him:  
  


“When you’re feeling better.”  
  


It seemed like an afterthought, but Tron never missed a detail, and Beck had the feeling he had been alone with his thoughts for a bit longer than welcome. So he just sat back, crossed his arms, and smiled. “You know I’m going to talk the entire time, right?”  
  


Tron chuckled, shaking his head. “After Flynn, I think I can handle you.”


End file.
